


JWP 2020 #9: First Discoveries

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Early in Canon, Getting to Know Each Other, Prompt Fic, Recovery from illness and injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:41:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25178602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: I knew Watson was technically an invalid when I invited him to share rooms.  Written for JWP #9 over on Watson's Woes.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36
Collections: Watson's Woes JWP Collection: 2020





	JWP 2020 #9: First Discoveries

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Первые открытия](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25398067) by [Little_Unicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Unicorn/pseuds/Little_Unicorn)



> **Warnings** : Fairly random musings on early days from a Holmes POV. Yes, I'm scared too. And written in a huge rush. You have been warned.
> 
>  **Prompt** : Basic Chemistry: Describe an event in the early days of Holmes and Watson.

I knew Watson was technically considered an invalid when I invited him to share rooms with me. I also knew from the most basic observations that he was neither an invalid by nature nor inclined to it by temperament. It was injury, illness, and misfortune that had brought him low. I assumed – without facts or knowledge – that it would not take him long for his usual health to return.

I had not considered what it would be like to share rooms with someone who was genuinely unwell, or how slow and uneven his path to recovery might be. I had much to discover.

Watson was the soul of courtesy and did his best to hide his travails. He did his best not to be an inconvenience anyone, myself and Mrs Hudson most of all. But our landlady was no more able to miss the signs he could not help but show anymore than I could. In her own sphere, Mrs Hudson is as close to my match in observational skills as anyone in London.

I made only the most basic accommodations for Watson in those first weeks. I refrained from violin-playing or noisy experiments when I judged Watson had managed to fall asleep, and did not entirely rebuff his efforts to distract himself with conversation when he was feeling well and we were both in the sitting room. Mrs Hudson did far more. She devised small errands he could do for her that involved short walks when he was doing well, and through that, I discovered Watson liked feeling useful. She engaged him in quiet, respectful conversation when he was well enough to be sitting up in the armchair, and refrained from tutting over him when he was on the sofa. Several extra warm knitted blankets appeared, folded neatly over the back of the sofa and the arm of Watson’s chair by the hearth. The fire in the sitting-room was always well built up on any day that threatened damp or chill. 

The crown jewel of all Mrs Hudson’s efforts was the table she set for us every day. Nothing fancy, but all the dishes were perfectly done, and with just enough variety to tempt the most indifferent appetite. Watson beamed at the first luncheon we shared together. He did not serve himself large portions, but savored every bite. Here was a man who clearly appreciated good food, not in the way a gourmand or glutton did, but someone for whom a well-prepared meal was more of a novelty than a commonplace. Mrs Hudson approved of his compliments almost as much as his empty plate. I was amused by the by-play, but thought nothing more about it.

Then came a morning several weeks after we had started sharing rooms. A day after a night when Watson had scarcely slept, and everything about him spoke of pain. He came to the table, and I saw for the first time a fundamental contradiction: the hungry, weary eyes of someone whose body was too at war with itself to tolerate the very food it needed.

I could have predicted Mrs Hudson’s dismay and upset. I was utterly unprepared for my own disquiet.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 9, 2020


End file.
